


Math is Hard

by Desbelleschoses



Category: Boruto, Naruto
Genre: Family, Gen, KakaYama dads, M/M, The kakashi fankid is clearly a KakaYama baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:57:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desbelleschoses/pseuds/Desbelleschoses
Summary: Takeshi (Kakashi and Yamato’s son) gets a bad grade on his math test. Kakashi gets up in arms about Naruto’s new curriculum. Tenzo manages to keep things settled. Kakayama, Kakayama parents.





	Math is Hard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tumblr request](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tumblr+request).



Takeshi looked down at the paper sitting on his desk in despair, eyebrows knit as he rubbed his earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. In red pen screamed the words ‘see me’ above a failing grade. Sensei hadn’t bothered to write the number, either. It was his fault; he’d stayed up way too late the night before the test. He should have been studying, but the newest volume of his favorite series had just been released, and his dad went out of his way to pick it up the day it was available, while he was in class.

He placed his head in his hands, his fingers running through his unkempt, brown hair. That probably wouldn’t happen again, after this. Shino-sensei was sure to tell on him. His grades were usually far better than this, and he was just as disappointed in himself as everyone else. However, there was a small part of him that didn’t regret choosing the book over his notecards. That was going to stay a secret.

As the rest of the class rushed out the double doors on either side of the classroom, Takeshi took his time packing his textbooks in his shoulder bag. The offending test was slipped inside his math book, hidden from sight. Well, he needed to get this over with. He heaved the strap over his shoulder and stuck his hands in his pockets, trudging down the steps to the front of the classroom. His sensei, accustomed to his silence, spoke first, even as he cleaned the chalkboard with an eraser.

“What happened, Takeshi?” Shino asked. “This isn’t like you. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Takeshi nudged the tile floor with the toe of his sandal. “Everything’s good.”

Shino turned around, clapping the chalk dust from his hands. “You know I’m going to have to tell your parents.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “There’s no way you could wait until Wednesday to do that, is there?”

“Takeshi…”

“I figured.”

“Listen, this doesn’t put you in danger of failing the class. If it wasn’t school policy, I wouldn’t say anything, but I have to. I’ll try to make that clear to them.”

“Thanks, Shino-sensei.”

“You’re a good student, Takeshi. Don’t let this get you down too much.”

“Which one are you gonna tell?”

Shino studied his pupil’s discouraged face, feeling a pang of sympathy. “I’ll talk to your Papa.”

Takeshi caught his sensei around the waist in a hug. “Thank you, sensei!” He took a step, asking “May I go?”

“Yes, you may.”

Takeshi adjusted the strap on his bag and rushed out of the classroom, more than ready to put as much distance between him and it as possible. The best way to put himself in his parents’ good graces would be to finish his homework before dinner. With that thought in mind, he ran straight to the library. He wanted to give them as little ammunition as possible.

When the sun began to set, Takeshi packed up his books and took the rooftops home. It was easier to avoid the foot traffic of the adults who were coming home from work this way. He took a free fall and caught a tree branch, which sagged with his weight as he used his momentum to throw himself forward. His feet touched down on the railing of a balcony, and he leapt back up to get a wider footpath.

It took him a matter of minutes to reach his home this way. In one final bound, he jumped from his own rooftop and caught on to a wooden beam, which he used to throw himself through his open window. His dad always threatened to close it, but he never did. Takeshi didn’t know if this was because his dad didn’t want him hurt, or if he didn’t want to go through the trouble of replacing the window. With a lazy toss, his backpack landed on the foot of his bed, bouncing once.

“I’m home!” Takeshi shouted, his voice carrying through his closed door throughout the house. They probably knew that already, but it was a habit that had been trained into him ever since he was a little kid. He shrugged off his blue vest and hung it on the hook that was screwed onto his closet door. When he sat down on his bed to take off his sandals, there was a light rap against his door, twice in succession, before the door opened.

Takeshi did his best to maintain a poker face as his papa looked down at him, an unreadable look in his eyes. He kicked the door shut behind him and pulled the chair from Takeshi’s desk, sitting in it backwards. His forearms draped over the back, and his chin rested on his arms. He leveled his son with a silent gaze, waiting for him to break. Takeshi was used to this tactic, and he fought back by avoiding eye contact, busying himself with putting his shoes in their proper place.

When it was clear that his son had no desire to start the conversation, Kakashi lifted himself from the back of the chair, placing his palms on either side of the rigid back. “Your sensei tracked me down during my meeting with Lord Seventh.”

Takeshi winced behind his mask. Yeah, that wasn’t good. He’d hoped his papa would be the one to go to, but to catch him in a meeting with his successor? _Shino-sensei…_ he bemoaned, wondering why he had such bad luck. “I didn’t know that,” he admitted, rustling around inside his bag.

“Naruto, of course, let him in, and Shino decided to ask me several questions about the status of our home life.” He paused. “Do you want to tell me what happened with the test?”

Takeshi’s eyes drifted guiltily to the book sitting on his bedside table. His father hummed in acknowledgement.

In a quiet voice, the boy asked, “Did you tell Dad?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Do you have to?”

Kakashi extended his hand and made a ‘give me’ motion. His son withdrew the offending test and handed it to his father, once again avoiding eye contact.

“What is this? Is this that new curriculum Naruto put in place?” Kakashi turned the page over incredulously, eyes scanning the problems. He read aloud: “Akira lived in Suna and Konoha for a total period of 14 months in order to learn new jutsus. He learned an average of 13 new jutsus per month when he lived in Suna, and an average of 15 new jutsus per month when he lived in Konoha. In total, he learned 192 new jutsus. How long did Akira live in Suna and how long did he live in Konoha?”

Takeshi shifted on his bed, remembering that he’d gotten that particular problem very, very wrong.

“The hell is this?” Kakashi sneered before he could stop himself.

“It’s a word problem, Papa.” Takeshi explained, attempting to answer his father’s rhetorical question.

“Come on, this is ridiculous! No ninja can learn _fifteen_ jutsus in a month, every month! And fourteen months between two villages? What is he, rogue?” Kakashi scoffed. He slapped the paper with the back of his free hand. “Has your sensei started teaching you the proper way to throw shuriken?”

“We’ve gone outside for some practice, but he hasn’t corrected anyone’s form.”

“Tell me you’ve been working on chakra control. Have you climbed trees in class, yet?”

Takeshi shook his head. To his horror, his father stood and walked out of his bedroom, the test still in his hand. He rushed after his distracted papa, trying to get his attention.

“Maa, Tenzo!”

When Takeshi’s dad looked up from his book, he knew he was done for. His papa stood in the living room, waving the test like some sort of banner.

“Do you know about this?”

“Know about what?” Tenzo closed his book and set it on the coffee table.

“‘Akira lived in Suna and Konoha for a total period of 14 months in order to learn new jutsus. He learned an average of 13 new jutsus per month when he lived in Suna, and an average of 15 new jutsus per month when he lived in Konoha. In total, he learned 192 new jutsus. How long did Akira live in Suna and how long did he live in Konoha?’” Kakashi recited.

“Nine in Suna and five in Konoha. Who’s Akira?”

“He’s the reason Takeshi isn’t learning how to be a ninja!”

Tenzo studied his husband carefully. “How many did you take of those pain pills Sakura gave you for your ankle?”

“One every eight hours. I’m not high.”

Tenzo hissed, not so subtly looking past Kakashi at Takeshi.

“Naruto should _never_ have been left in charge of developing the academy curriculum. Go on, Takeshi. Tell Dad what you told me.”

Takeshi looked warily at his papa before answering. “That we haven’t worked on shuriken form or practiced climbing trees with chakra control?”

Kakashi gestured at his son as though this proved whatever point he was trying to make. This was when Tenzo caught sight of the paper in his hand. “Kakashi, what’s that?”

Takeshi paled, looking up at his papa with wide eyes. Kakashi realized his mistake and looked down at his son, his gaze trying to tell him how sorry he was before passing the paper to Tenzo. There was nothing either of them could do.

“Takeshi…” Tenzo’s warning tone broke their silent conversation.

“No, Dad, really, it’s not that big a deal. Shino-sensei says my grades are fine. It was just one little mess-up.” Takeshi climbed on the couch beside his father, trying to get back in his good graces. Pleadingly, he beseeched Kakashi. “Right, Papa?”

“You’re in the top of your class,” Tenzo mused, looking over the test. “What happened?” He put the test down and looked at his son. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

Takeshi shook his head. “No. I just… I didn’t study like I should have,” he admitted, fiddling with his sleeve. “Please don’t be mad.”

Tenzo sighed and ruffled the hair on the top of his son’s head. “Listen, I know you work hard, but now you understand what happens when you slack off. I’m not going to punish you, but you have to promise me that you won’t get another grade like this.”

“I promise!” Takeshi threw his arms around his dad, burying his face in his shoulder.

“And don’t listen to Papa. Whatever they’re teaching you at the Academy is going to be important later on in life. Right, Kakashi?” Tenzo turned to look pointedly at his husband, but he had left the living room. Kakashi was pacing the kitchen, cordless phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Come on, Iruka, this is ridiculous, and you know it!” Kakashi argued into the telephone. “This is a _ninja academy_. I threw Naruto into the Forest of Death when he was Takeshi’s age! Sasuke took down a giant bear! How can these kids fight like that if they can’t climb trees?” He saw Tenzo glaring at him from the living room, so he turned his back. “Are you still there? Good. Put Anko on the phone. No, hand me to Anko.” He paused, listening to the other end. “Of course she’ll agree with me! Now, as your sixth Hokage-”

Tenzo snatched the phone from Kakashi and hung up, placing his hands on his hips. “Really?”

“Come on, if we were sent out-”

“You and I aren’t fair comparisons, and neither are Sasuke and Naruto. You know that.” Tenzo bonked him on the head with the butt of the telephone. “We’re at peace, idiot, and it looks like it’s going to stay that way. Can’t we just enjoy it?”

Kakashi shifted his weight and looked up at the ceiling.

“If you’re this worried, you can take Takeshi out and train with him on the weekends,” Tenzo suggested. “But, like it or not, he has to learn things that you didn’t when you were in the Academy. He’s certainly learning more than I ever had the chance to. So, stop whining.” He handed the telephone back t Kakashi. “Be productive and call in some Ichiraku for dinner.” The smile he gave his husband showed that he wasn’t angry, although he was still a little annoyed.

“I want miso!” Takeshi jumped off the couch and ran up to his parents. “With those fish cakes!”

“I’ve got you, kid.” Kakashi tapped him on the back. “Now, go get changed out of your school clothes. You smell worse than Bull.”


End file.
